Tails of a Khajiit
by Zeratide
Summary: Witness Sim'baja, the Khajiit Dragonborn, sleep his way across all of Skyrim. Rated M for sex.
1. Haelga

Hey everyone! Zeratide here, and in theme of my recent Skyrim phase, here is the first of a series of one-shots involving my Khajiit character, and a number of female characters you can't actually marry in Skyrim without codes on the PC. Enjoy!

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><p>Sim'baja, the Khajit thief, strode into the Bunkhouse, twirling a finger through his braided mustache as he looked for his prey. A few gazed nervously at his Dark Brotherhood armor, but he paid them no heed; this was no assassination.<p>

He saw Haelga standing behind the counter, sweat dotting her brow as she served drinks to her patrons. His tail twitched slightly as his gaze lingered over her figure for a moment. With knowledge honed by years of assassinations, even before coming to Skyrim, he picked out a number of details. First, the walls of Haelga's room were thicker than were necessary, likely to prevent anyone from hearing her practice her Dibellan arts. Second, the woman seemed a bit horny, occasionally rubbing her thighs together unnoticeably when the various male patrons of the bar made jokes to each other of their exploits. And third, he noticed that a number of the patrons were starting to display signs of weariness. Svana walked up to him, polite as ever, and he winked at her, showing he had what she had sent him after.

"It's almost midnight, so everyone will be going to bed," he whispered, his voice a deep, sly purr. "Head on up, so she doesn't suspect your involvement. I'll tell you about it tomorrow morning." The young woman nodded, before going upstairs, the rest of the patrons following. Casually walking up to the counter, he waited as Haelga put away the remaining mugs.

"If you're looking to stay the night, you've come to the wrong place," she said, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes. "This is for workers who can't afford a place to stay." As he remained silent, she huffed, before turning to go to her quarters. With a swift movement, he laid the three Marks of Dibella on the counter. She turned to look, and her eyes went wide before she scooped them up.

"What? How… where did you get these?" she demanded, quickly hiding them in the pockets of her apron. "No, don't tell me. I don't want to know. Look, we need to keep this quiet… between you and me, okay? No one else needs to know about it." He smiled slightly, and she continued, failing to notice in her anxiety. "If word got out that I'm practicing my Dibellan Arts in Riften, they'll run me out of town."

"Relax," he said, casually observing his claws. "I'll tell you what… I won't tell anyone about your… religion… if you'll give me a Mark of my own," he purred, leaning across the counter to make full eye contact. Surprise crossed her features for a second, before she looked him over, blushing slightly and biting her lip as she gazed at his muscled form.

"Well, I've never done a Khajit before," she murmured to herself, crossing her arms as she thought. "Kind of kinky." She smiled them, leaning toward him and tracing her finger across the neckline of her blue blouse. "You've got yourself a deal, cat," she said, taking him by the hand and leading him to her quarters. She closed the door behind her, and locked it, before turning and walking toward him, swaying her hips. "You've never been with a girl like me before." Her nimble fingers reached for the buckles of his clothing, and she managed to remove his hood and armor before he grabbed her, shredding her blouse and apron with his claws. He quickly captured one of her large breasts with his mouth, running his rough tongue over the sensitive nipple while using his whiskers to brush the surrounding flesh. Not wishing his hands to remain idle, he fondled her other breast with his right hand, groping her firm ass in his left. She gasped in amazement, bucking her hips forwards, and he quickly removed her pants, leaving her naked. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and he slammed her against the wall, holding her up and grinding against her as he switched attention to her other breast, and her hands ran through the soft fur on his torso.

As he worked on her breasts with his tongue and hand, he flicked his tail around, using the soft tuft of fur at the end to brush against her soaking folds. She shuddered at the sensation, and he felt her dampen significantly, the results of her orgasm. He tossed her onto the bed, before removing his gloves, trousers, and boots, and climbed onto the bed himself. She quickly sat up, reaching around his waist until her fingers found their prize, and she began pumping him with one hand, brushing her hair out of her eyes, before she used her mouth, wrapping her lips around his shaft. He grabbed her hair, forcing her to deepthroat him, and she willingly complied, her head bobbing up and down faster and faster. After a few minutes, he growled slightly, and released his seed, the substance spraying the back of her throat. He panted slightly as she greedily swallowed it all, before he pushed her onto her back.

She spread her legs, allowing him a view of her glistening folds, and he moved forwards, teasing her with the head. She whimpered slightly, and he thrust in, purring as she clamped around him, squeezing him for all he was worth. "For such a loose woman," he said, building up a rhythm, "you are remarkably tight."

"Just shut up and fuck me!" she growled, arching her back as he thrust into her. He willingly complied, increasing the speed and power of his thrusts, causing the bed to bang repeatedly against the wall. He grabbed one of her bouncing breasts, giving it a firm squeeze, before moving even faster, watching them blur back and forth as the woman threw her head back. "O-o-o-o-o-h G-o-o-o-o-d-d-d-s!" she screamed, writhing beneath him. She clamped tighter then, unbearably so, and he found himself unable to move as she screamed out, her orgasm squirting against his thighs. No longer able to hold himself back, he sprayed his own release into her, unable to move until her back finally flopped back onto the mattress. He pulled out of her, and sat with his back against the headboard, brushing his knuckles against his chest.

"Ready for round two?" he asked, watching her chest rise and fall with each breath. She stood on shaky legs, before walking over to her shelf, and grabbing a number of stamina potions. She chugged down two, before offering him one. He took a small sip, setting it down on the nightstand, before he moved to the center of the bed, pulling her on top of him. Haelga straddled him, guiding his shaft into her, before she impaled herself on him, arching her back to get a better angle. He placed his hands on her hips, and matched her pace, thrusting up as she came down, penetrating deeper and deeper into her.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a couple of leather strips, and he grabbed them, leaning forward and tying her hands to the foot of the bed, her body stretched out as she continuously ground against him. She continued to scream, and after a few moments, he pulled out of her, leaving a trail of her fluids spilling out. She looked at him curiously, before he untied her. Flipping her over so she was on all fours, he re-tied her, before pressing against her other hole. She whipped her head around to look at him in surprise, before he thrust into her ass, causing her entire body to go slack.

She came immediately then and there, and as he continued to pound into her hole, the woman began to babble incoherently, her mind too clouded with lust for her to think properly. He bent over her, pressing her deeper into the mattress, before slapping her buttocks, the sound reverberating through the room. She moaned slightly, and he did it again, thrusting deeper into her ass. A tightness in his loins warned him of his inclement climax, and he quickly untied the woman. At the last second, he pulled out and flipped her over, before spraying his load onto her chest, face, and stomach. As she wiped the semen off of herself with a spare towel, he took another sip of the stamina potion, before asking, "Ready for round three?"

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><p>Four hours and seven mutual orgasms later, he finally pulled out of her for the last time, shaking in spite of the legendary reserves he prided himself in. He managed to spray one last load, a jagged line upon her sweat-slicked breasts, before he flopped over, heat suffusing his body. If Haelga was aware of the fact he was still on her bed, she didn't acknowledge it; instead, in her lust-addled mind, she seemed content to rub his seed into her skin, playing with her nipples once it could be spread no more. Sitting up, Sim'baja took a deep breath before standing to gather his clothes. His head seemed to swim for a moment, and he steadied himself on the nightstand until the sensation passed. Quickly donning his Dark Brotherhood armor, he took a Mark of Dibella from her, and then silently left the building, leaving Riften and bathing in the waters of Lake Honrich before re-entering the town.<p>

As the town began to wake, and businesses began showing their wares, he strode to the bunkhouse, entering the building for the second time in so short a period. Walking straight to Svana, he grinned. "You gave her the Marks?" she asked, and he nodded, brushing his knuckles casually across his chest. "How can I ever repay you?" she asked, and a Cheshire grin split his features.

"I'm sure we can think of _something…_"

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><p>Well, there you go guys! My first ever Fanfiction dedicated solely to sex. And since it is called Tails of a Khajiit (which is by far one of my worst puns ever) there will be more. Next time, we'll have Gabriella. Review, and stay tuned!<p>

-Zeratide


	2. Gabriella

Sim'baja silently watched the woman below him bob her head up and down in his lap, a disinterested observer of the Khajit woman working on swallowing him. Her soft fur felt different under his hands as he groped her breasts, and as he went through the motions of sex, he found that his mind kept drifting. Skyrim had changed his tastes in many ways; in food, in dress, and in women. In his younger days, the Khajit women were all he had known; when the caravans came through his home, he would always find a new, young girl his age that was eager to enjoy some time with as handsome a cat as he. But this snow-covered land was filled with all types, and he found his tastes shifted to humans and elves. As he spilled his seed into the Khajit woman's womb, his mind drifted back to the first elf he had lain with, and surprisingly the first woman he had loved.

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><p>As he strode through the eerie black door to the Sanctuary, a blood-flecked smile crossed his lips. If there was one thing one could say about the Dark Brotherhood, it certainly kept you on your toes. Having gone through the harrowing preparations to kill the Emperor, he was finally ready to kill the man. He reported the death of The Gourmet to Astrid, and she congratulated him in her way, handing him the poison to slip into the Emperor's food. The rest of the Brotherhood was gone from the Sanctuary; Veezara was taking care of a side contract, Nazir was meeting one of his numerous contacts, Babette was out gathering herbs, Festus was tracking down a spell he had heard of, and Arnbjorn was waiting outside the Sanctuary, planning on going for a run with his wife. The werewolf's blood was boiling, and it would take all night for Astrid to "calm" him. As she strode past him, she noticed a bleeding gash on the Khajit's chest. "Have Gabriella take care of that wound," she said, shaking her head. "If you're to kill the Emperor tomorrow night, you need to make sure you are in peak condition."<p>

He wanted nothing more than to just go to bed, but he agreed with his Mistress, before he sought out the dark elf woman. Unable to find her in her usual location, or anywhere else in the Sanctuary, he decided to abandon his search. Entering the main cavern of the Sanctuary, he stripped out of his armor, leaving him naked, before jumping into the small pond in front of the stained glass of what used to be Cicero's room; the jester had since moved to Dawnstar, and Sim'baja was more than content to leave him there. The water was a bit chilled, but he used his modest knowledge of magic to cast Flames on the water, heating it until it was similar to what he imagined the Emperor's royal baths were like. He chuckled at the thought, before he sunk underwater, dragging his claws through his fur like a brush. When he was clean, he surfaced, and leaned back against the rocks, closing his eyes as he basked in the comfort of the water.

A thin steel dagger pressed against the right side of his neck, and more out of instinct than conscious thought, his left arm shot across his body, grasping the assailant's hand and pushing the blade away from his neck, before his right hand shot up. Grabbing the attacker's shoulder, he flipped the person over his shoulder, shoving them underwater. Before he could see who his assailant was, he was dragged under as well, and the clear water turned into a froth of bubbles as he and the assailant struggled, trying to wrest control of the knife from the other. He finally managed to smash the attacker's hand against a rock, the impact jerking their hand open, and he brought them both up, slamming the person against the rocky shore as he brought his sharp claws to their neck.

Whipping his fur out of his eyes, surprise coursed through him as he saw his assailant was none other than the dark elf he had spent so much time searching for. Wearing no more clothes than he, Gabriella was panting, giving him an alluring smile. His eyes flicked briefly over her figure; slim, compact muscle alongside long legs and a pair of perky breasts. Her breasts were not large, but neither were they small; rather, he found them to be just right for his hands. "Well done, Brother," she said, gently pushing aside the claws at her throat and the thoughts in his mind, though the latter was more temporary. "When you go in to kill tomorrow, your opponent will not be gracious; you will have to fight hard to survive. Your reflexes must be as sharp as your claws." She grinned slightly as she saw his eyes flick down to her breasts, before she reached underwater, grasping his hardening flesh in her surprisingly soft hands. "Perhaps my Brother would like his Sister to help him _relax_ before his mission?"

In response, he rammed his body against her, kissing her hungrily as his hands grabbed her waist. Wrapping her arms around his neck, Gabriella responded eagerly to his advancements, slipping her tongue into his mouth as she wrapped her legs around his waist. The water sloshed around them as they bucked and writhed. Finally, he positioned himself against her entrance, and with a quick nod from her he thrust in, pistoning in and out of her with wild abandon until the little pond had its own tide. Grabbing his hands, Gabriella placed them firmly on her breasts, and when he had latched on and begun fondling the flesh, she leaned back, her torso lying on the rocky shore while the lower half of her body experienced ecstasy.

To his surprise, and for the first time in his life, he came first. With a particularly strong thrust, he shot his seed deep into her womb. The hot substance flowing into her set off her own orgasm, but worry gnawed at him at the possible sign of what this instance might mean for him. Masking his emotions as she looked at his face, he bent over to kiss her again, but this time the kiss was gentle, tentative. Surprise flitted across her eyes before understanding dawned in those shining orbs. He tensed slightly as he felt her move, before she gently placed her hand on the back of his head, kissing him gently as a lover. When they separated, she gently pressed her face into his neck, inhaling the woody smell of the Skyrim forests that his fur trapped. "You love me, don't you?" she whispered.

"Yes," he responded, and he felt amazed at the words. He had thrown the word around plenty before – usually to get into a girl's skirts – but he knew this time that he meant it. Fear began to gnaw away at him again. "If I go tomorrow, I may never see you again, Gabriella." She smiled then, before kissing him again.

"Then why don't we make sure this is a night that neither of us will forget?"

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><p>Sim'baja awoke to a scaly hand shaking his shoulder. Turning over, he saw Veezara standing over him. "Wake up," the Argonian said, shaking him again. "Get up!" Sim'baja sat up, and Gabriella's arm slid off his chest. Realizing that he and Gabriella were still lying together in bed in the bunk area, he quickly threw the blanket over the woman's form as she awoke. Swearing, the two quickly dressed while Veezara kept watch. "You're lucky I was the first one back," he muttered under his breath. "If it were anyone else, the entire Brotherhood would know by now. Luckily for you, I can keep a secret." When they were fully dressed, Veezara left, leaving the two standing together in an awkward silence. Sim'baja decided to speak first.<p>

"Gabriella," he said, taking her in his arms, "I want you to remember that no matter what happens tonight, I love you. If I make it back, will you marry me?" he asked, and he stumbled as she wrapped her arms around him, kissing him fiercely. He kissed her quickly, before he left the Sanctuary, riding Shadowmere to Solitude.

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><p>As Commander Moro walked away from the ambush he had so masterfully set up, Sim'baja took the second he had before battle to think. What should he be feeling? Anger that he had killed a decoy, rather than the Emperor himself? Hurt that a member of his own Brotherhood had betrayed him? All he could focus on was Moro's vow to destroy the Dark Brotherhood; namely, the dark elf included in that vow. As the Penitus Oculatus charged, he had no time to draw any weapons. Ejecting his claws, he launched forward, avoiding the blades and arrows flying at him before slicing his opponents' throats open, blood spurting across his wild eyes.<p>

More and more charged him, and he quickly drew his elven sword, fighting like a berserker. Ducking under a debilitating blow, his blade sunk into the man's Achilles tendon. A pommel smash to the knee followed, and finally a decapitating slash ended the soldier's life. Grabbing the man's shield as he went down, Sim'baja rapidly advanced, knocking aside those who stood in his way. An arrow grazed his shoulder, and he cursed angrily; had he worn his armor instead of The Gourmet's fancy clothes, the arrow would have been deflected. Now, his entire arm burned when he lifted his sword.

More and more men started to swarm his location, guard and Penitus Oculatus alike, and he quickly ascended to the top of a tower, locking the trapdoor to the top. Having grabbed one of the fallen men's bow and quiver, he shot at the men swarming into the tower, thinning the numbers substantially. When the men finally broke through, they came out in groups of twos, pressing him to the edge of the tower. He glanced behind, and saw the water far below him. Turning back to the men, he swallowed hard. An image of Gabriella set itself firm in his mind, and his eyes hardened. Sheathing his blade, he spread his arms, leaned back, and fell over the edge.

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><p>He had made it to the Sanctuary just in time to find almost everyone slaughtered. He had tried to save Arnbjorn, but a lucky arrow from an archer slew the beast. When he found Gabriella's corpse, he broke down, trying in vain to wake her. When he finally accepted that his love was dead, he went through the rest of the Sanctuary, saving Nazir. After that, the rest was a blur, until he found himself standing over Astrid's charred body, holding the Blade of Woe. As he thrust the blade into her chest, he whispered softly, "For Gabriella."<p>

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><p>As he came again in the Khajit woman purring beneath him, Gabriella faded to the back of his mind. Love was a dangerous thing for a Dragonborn, and for now, he was content to replace it with meaningless debauchery.<p>

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><p>Well, there you go guys! Hope you liked it, and I also gave you a bonus girl alongside Gabriella. Next girl is up to you; tell me who you think I should do in a review.<p>

-Zeratide, out.


	3. Karita

Sim'baja grunted as he awoke, throwing an arm over his face as even the meager light of his room in the Dawnstar Sanctuary aggravated his hangover. He sat up in his large bed, the covers falling off of him to reveal his nudity. Arching his back like the cat he was, he stretched out, his arm brushing against the naked form of the nameless woman Nazir had recruited to join them. Rolling onto his knees and elbows, he crawled over her, running a hand over her breasts to rouse her. She moaned as she awoke, and seeing him over her, she spread her legs, allowing him entrance. Without a word he thrust into her, passing the hour till dawn in a sweat-soaked haze of her heaving breasts and his throbbing loins.

Once she had climaxed twice and he finally spilled his seed in her, he got out of the bed. Rolling his neck, he grabbed his armor off the floor, putting it on the mannequin before he went to the trunk. Pulling out some of the clothes he had managed to scrounge from the Bard's College, as well as a lute, he hid the Blade of Woe in the folds of his clothes, planning on posing as a Bard to get close enough to kill the target. He then went to the herb garden growing in the cracks of the stone, grabbing the necessary ingredients to craft a Frenzy Potion.

When he was finally ready to conduct his Assassination, he said goodbye to Nazir, mussed up Babette's hair to annoy her, then strode out the secret exit to appear outside of the town. Turning toward Dawnstar, he began the stroll to the Windpeak Inn.

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><p>The heavy haze of heat and smoked meat met him as he opened the door and strode in, welcoming the warmth over the Skyrim cold. He quickly strode over to Thoring, taking a seat on the stool in front of him. "Black-Briar," he said, tossing the septims on the counter. Thoring nodded as he grabbed the bottle.<p>

"Bard, eh?" he asked, looking over Sim'baja's clothes. The Khajit nodded, and the man spoke again. "You know, my daughter Karita is the bard for this place. No formal training though. Suppose you could teach her a thing or two?" Sim'baja turn to his gaze on the young girl, and his critical eye swept over her form, lingering on her breasts for a half second.

"Eh, why not?" he replied, downing the bottle of mead. He rose from the stool, and strode over to her. "Karita," he greeted her, bowing. "My name is Sim'baja. I'm from the Bard's College, and your father asked me to give you a lesson or two." The woman seemed excited at his words, so he pulled out the lute, beginning to tune it.

"You know, I first learned to play in Elsweyr as a cub," he talked aimlessly, watching from the corner of his eye as his target strode into the place. "My father told me that I was smooth enough with my tongue that if I could convince him not to punish me for my various infractions, than I could be the greatest bard who ever lived." He handed her the lute then, and said, "Play me The Song of the Dragonborn."

As she turned to face those present, he discreetly poured the frenzy potion into the now-empty bottle of mead, replacing the cork. Standing up, he strode past her as she played, her voice somewhat screechy in his ear. Almost accidentally, he found himself bumping into his target, spilling the man's drink. "Watch it!" he shouted, shoving the Khajit.

Sim'baja's eyes flashed for a moment, before he calmed his anger. "My apologies," he said, bowing slightly to the man. "Here, you may have mine." Handing the bottle to the man, he turned back toward Karita as she finished. "Not bad," he told her. "You could use a voice lesson or two, but you're not bad. Not bad at all."

At that moment, the target downed the entire Frenzy potion, and shouted out in fury, drawing a dagger. He lunged for Karita, and managed to score a shallow gash on her right arm before Sim'baja grabbed his arm with his powerful hands. He hissed, his ears pressing flat against his skull, before he rammed the Blade of Woe into the underside of the man's jaw, the tip of the blade coming out the top of his skull. As the body fell to the floor, the entire place flew into an uproar, and a minute later, the guards burst in. As they began questioning everyone, Sim'baja discreetly swapped out the poisoned bottle with a real one, and when the guards got to him, they allowed him to pass without incident.

"You saved my life," Karita said to him, her body shaking.

"It was nothing," he said, casually waving her off. His eyes flicked over her again as she glanced away, before he said, "Would you like to continue with the lessons?"

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><p>For the next few weeks, they would meet each day, and he would take her into her room and close the door as he taught her. When she confessed her nervousness to him, a wicked smile curved his lips.<p>

"When Sim'baja learned to play," he said, switching to the Khajit manner of addressing themselves, "he was nervous too. So what he did, was he asked his potential mates to listen to him play. He would take them somewhere secluded, disrobe, and play naked. It may seem strange, but it worked; he was never afraid to play in front of large crowds." While his story was true, he refrained from telling her what usually came _after_ the songs with the women, or the fact that he had often posed as a bard to kill, as he had done just weeks before.

"Really?" she asked, blushing from head to toe. He nodded, and she swallowed nervously before standing. Shrugging the straps of her dress off her shoulders, she held the garment against her chest with one hand, self-conscious, before she removed her hand and allowed it to pool around her ankles. His gaze ran over her luscious curves, and he felt himself hardening as he stared at her ample breasts. Her hips were wide, and her nether regions were shaved, something he had never come across before. She picked up the lute, and began to play, before she shook her head. "I can't do this, it's too embarrassing," she said, covering herself with her arms.

"Would it help if Sim'baja disrobed as well?" he asked, his hands lazily lifting the hem of his tunic far enough for her to view his sculpted abdomen. Lust flashed in her eyes, and she nodded. He removed the tunic with a quick flourish, displaying his muscular, dark brown torso. Unclasping his belt, he quickly shucked his pants, revealing his hardened anatomy. She dropped the lute in surprise, unable to take her eyes off him. She slowly moved closer, and reached out her hand to touch it. Pausing for a moment, she looked at him as if asking permission, and he nodded, before she gently grasped it.

He sat back down in his chair, and pulled her down with him. Now kneeling in front of him, she slowly began to pump her hand up and down on his shaft, licking her lips. After a minute or so, she engulfed him in her hot mouth, and began to sing softly, the vibrations in her throat increasing his pleasure. After five minutes, she began deep throating him. With a content grunt, he spilled his seed down her throat before picking her up. Carrying her over to the bed, he set her down, before bending and licking her sopping folds. She threw back her head, her breath hitching, and he continued to stimulate her until she achieved her own orgasm. Still lying on her back, she adjusted in the bed, spreading her legs wider, and he pressed himself against her folds. Slowly pushing his way inside, he felt her tight folds clamping around him, and he reached her barrier. With a quick, efficient thrust, he broke her hymen, claiming her virginity as his. She whimpered for a few moments, and he allowed a few seconds for her to adjust before he began pounding in and out of her. For the first minute, tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, before her expression changed, and he felt her shift from pain to pleasure. The walls became slick, and he increased the pace.

The wet sound of flesh slapping flesh was the only sound in the room for a considerable amount of time. As she orgasmed, he kept pounding into her, before he slowly pulled out. _Two down, _he thought, pressing against her other hole. _One to go._ He thrust into her swiftly, and she screamed out in ecstasy, before he pressed a hand against her mouth, silencing her screams. He licked her erect nipples with his rough tongue, before he began pumping into her ass. Tighter than her womb, he ass quickly milked his seed out of his body, but he kept going nonetheless, enjoying the activity too much to stop. She turned into one continuous orgasm, and he switched back to her other hole. For the next few hours, he kept pounding her, until his seed was overflowing from her filled womb.

As he rose and dressed, she shook slightly from the lack of his warmth. Night had fallen, and the cold was enough to chill even him, despite his thick fur. "I'll see you tomorrow for your next lesson," he said, leering suggestively at her. Exiting through the window, he laughed, a smooth, pleasant sound.

Life was good.

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><p>There you go guys. Next up, Deeja, followed by Vex, then Ingun Black-Briar. Review, and let me know what you think.<p>

-Zeratide, out.


	4. Deeja

Sim'baja liked to think of himself as man who was in control of his emotions. Whenever he was on a contract mission for the Dark Brotherhood, he was all business. Silent whilst receiving the details, silent during the deed, and completely calm.

Oh, there were times when he was angry. He knew how to channel that anger. How to make it cause his enemies to turn and run. He possessed the same talent with fear. The last time he had been afraid was when he had slaughtered so many Penitus Oculatus to try and save Gabriella. She had been dead on arrival, but his fear had been channeled to kill so many.

One thing he had never felt before, however, was the blind, burning _rage_ he felt at this moment.

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><p>It had started out as a regular day in Solitude. Having stopped into town to sell off some equipment, he came across an Argonian named Jaree-Ra. The lizard had quickly engaged him in a roundabout, suggestive conversation about a heist. After a few questions, Sim'baja had agreed to the heist, and had gone about the first step: disabling the lighthouse.<p>

It was truly remarkable just how lax security was on the structure. As Sim'baja traipsed toward it, he saw no guards anywhere, and even as he climbed the steps, he still was unable to find another living soul. Reaching the top, he had to shield his face with one hand from the heat, before you used a simple Unrelenting Force shout to send the wood flying off the structure and into the sea. He had returned, reported his success, and then followed Jaree-Ra's directions to the wreck.

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><p>That was when the trouble had started. Now facing a considerable number of Black-Blood Marauders, Sim'baja experienced such fury as he had never before felt. It wasn't the sight of the slaughtered sailors, innocent men who had been victims of chance; it was the betrayal that stung him to the core. Never before in all of his work had he been so thoroughly betrayed; even when Astrid had ratted him out, she had done so for the promise of protection for the Brotherhood. This betrayal was over something as simple as coin.<p>

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><p>Which brought him back to the present. Rounding the last corner in the ship, he casually slashed out with his claws, slicing the throat of Deeja's guard. As the Argonian drew her weapon, he slid Chillrend out of its sheathe, the familiar hissing filling the air and making the woman pause. When he shouted "ZUN HAAL VIIK," sending her weapon flying through the air and burying itself in the wooden hull, she threw her hands up in surrender.<p>

"Waitwaitwaitwait," she quickly babbled, kneeling as he came closer and pressed Chillrend's tip to her throat. "We can talk about this. We can work this out. I will give you my share of the money, eh? How about that?"

"No amount of money could even begin to repay the thorough screwing you've given Sim'baja here, Deeja," he hissed, pressing his ears flat against his skull. Her eyes seemed to light up at his words, and her lips curled into a self-satisfied smirk as she slowly reached forward, clasping the belt of his Thieves Guild armor.

"How about if I give you a real screwing then, eh? After killing so many of my guards, adrenaline must be coursing through you, and I would hate to see such a fine male specimen be uncomfortable." Silence reined for several seconds, before Chillrend slid back into its scabbard. Smiling triumphantly, she quickly slid his trousers down around his ankles, before pulling off her leather armor. While he shed himself of his cuirass, she ran her scaly hands through the fur on his legs, before taking him in her mouth.

The sensation was different than when performed by a human, elf, or Khajit. The Argonian's jaw was shaped differently, so she was unable to take him deep into her throat. She made up for it with her naturally long tongue, wrapping it around his shaft and sliding it along the skin. Her scaly nose rubbed against his pelvis, and she lightly dragged her teeth along him as she bobbed up and down on him.

Unsheathing his claws, he lazily cut through the straps of her leather armor, watching as the garment fell to the floor, exposing her naked body. Her breasts were round and plump, like a human or elf's, but were covered in a thin layer of overlapping scales and possessed no visible nipple. Her abdomen, devoid of scales, resembled the membrane of a dragon's wing. As she ceased her ministrations and lay on her stomach, spreading her legs, he saw that the scales surrounding her entrance were knobbed and ribbed, and as he slowly pushed into her, he found that it was to increase pleasure.

His eyes rolled back in his head as he began his thrusts from behind, and she made strange sounds. With her raspy voice, he assumed they were moans of pleasure, and when he increased his pace, they increased in volume. Reaching under her, he pawed her breasts, feeling them out and experimenting to find the most sensitive areas. Her tail arched over her back, swinging lazily, and with each thrust, the base of her tail pressed against his abdomen, reminding him of the Khajit women, albeit more scaly.

After ten minutes, he flipped Deeja over onto her back, and began thrusting into her harder, watching as her eyes glazed over and her breasts bounced around. After another ten, she tightened around him as she orgasmed, and he was able to last another minute before he came. Panting lightly, he wiped the sweat from his brow. As Deeja moved away from him, he grabbed her scaly arm in an iron grip. "This one is not done yet," he told her, thrusting twice to prove his point.

"You last much longer than any men Deeja has slept with before," she said, reminding him a little more of Elsweyr. "Argonian men are considered to be exceptional if they last five minutes. The men and elves don't last much longer."

"Sim'baja is not man, nor elf, nor Argonian. Khajit is strong, and enduring. This one once ran the entire Seven Thousand Steps to the Throat of the World." Wrapping his arms around Deeja, he pulled her so they were both sitting up, before he began thrusting into her again, the new angle sending her head back. Hours passed, and their bodies became slick with sweat.

As Deeja's eighth orgasm triggered Sim'baja's seventh, he suddenly began gasping for air. It took him a moment to realize Deeja's tail was now wrapped tightly around his neck, and her expression had passed from orgasmic excitement to murderous excitement. In addition, she tightened her legs around his waist, immobilizing him, and trapped his arms behind his back. The corners of his vision began to flicker, and summoning what air he could, he Shouted out, "FEIM!"

Unable to have completed the entire Shout, he knew that he only had a few seconds. Focusing intently on the meaning of Feim, which was Fade, he became as a ghost, and slid through her body, before standing behind her just as the effects disappeared. Deeja was quick to respond, however, whipping her tail around and catching his chest with one of the sharp vertebrae-like scales running up it. He hissed in pain, before she lunged forward, trying to catch his shaft in her mouth and bite it off. Catching her jaws with his hands, he strained against her as her muscles tried to force her mouth closed.

Roaring with one final effort, he yanked his arms in opposite directions, splitting her skull and tearing the top portion off, blood spraying across the area. As her body slithered across the damp floor into the pooling water, Sim'baja redressed, brushing off his hands. A quick rifle through her belongings revealed a letter denoting the location of Jaree-Ra.

"Time to go hunting."

* * *

><p>Well, there you have it folks. Next up is Vex. Review and tell me how I did!<p>

-Zeratide, out.


	5. Vex

"Fus Ro Dah!"

The power of the Thu'um still surprised Sim'baja, even after all of its use. He wasn't in combat; instead, he was venting his pent-up anger in the forests, Shouting at banks of snow. Where his Shout soared, a mini-blizzard of displaced snow and ice swirled, before it would eventually settle, and he would Shout again. Months of stress in the forms of dragons, bandits, assassinations, larceny, and endless pleas for help had built him into one tense cat. Another blast of the Thu'um, and he would rest for a while.

As he reared back, preparing to Shout again, he heard the crunch of snow behind him. Whipping around, he released one word of the Shout; not strong enough to send his enemy flying, but enough to make them stumble. As he flew forward, blade drawn and poised, he saw that the person on the ground was Delvin. He stopped the attack, and helped the thief to his feet.

"How'd you discover me?" Delvin asked, rubbing his neck and wincing. "I was sneaking; I wanted to see how long it would take before you figured it out, but you got me the instant I got here."

"You forget this one's ears," he replied in his purring drawl, tapping the appendages. "It is very hard to sneak up on a Khajit." Sim'baja rolled his shoulders, before sighing. He sheathed his blade, before crossing his arms. "What did you come here for, Delvin? This one knows you would not come just to test his skill."

"Well, we _do_ have a bit of a problem," Delvin admitted, scratching behind his ear. "Vex has been arrested. During a job in Markarth, a couple of Forsworn snuck in and did some damage. She got paralyzed by a spell in the crossfire, and the guards found that she had a small fortune in stolen gems on her. They've thrown her into Cidhna Mine."

Sim'baja sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Memories of his own imprisonment in the mine as a result of the Forsworn Conspiracy rose, unbidden, to the forefront of his mind. His brawl with the orc, his conversation with Madonach, the escape and slaughter of so many guards. "You think that, because I escaped once, I can do it again."

"Well, who else am I supposed to ask? Every thief knows to avoid Markarth; only the Masters get away, and even they tend to stay away. The Silver-Bloods are sadistic bastards who hate Thieves even more than they hate the Forsworn. She'll die in that prison if you don't help her."

Scratching the back of his head, he began pacing back and forth. Despite her attitude, he liked Vex enough to know that he had to help her. He was her Master, but he was also her friend. Having reached that decision, he now faced the question of _how_ to break her out. An idea came to mind, and he went over it for several minutes, refining it until he had what he believed would be an adequate strategy.

During the negotiations between Tullius and Ulfric, territory had had to be sacrificed to both sides, and Markarth had been surrendered to the Stormcloaks in the negotiations. As a Legate in the Imperial Legions, he just might be able to arrange both the breakout, and the reconquer of the city.

"I can break her out, but it will take time."

* * *

><p><em>Two weeks later…<em>

Sim'baja stood in the center of Vlindrel Hall, sitting in the center of his bedroom surrounded by Imperial armor, shields, and weapons. He sat in a meditative position, going over and over one word, one Shout he was never meant to learn. After an hour of meditation, he opened his eyes, and rose. Removing his fancy clothing, he slowly pulled on his Nightingale armor, sans hood. Walking over to his chests, he emptied out his inventory, stashing all of his potions, scrolls, and other items save what his armor and weapon. Once that was complete, he strolled over to his wardrobe and pulled out a necklace and ring, both of which he had enchanted to increase his carrying capacity. Putting on his jewelry, he then packed the Imperial items into a bag, before pulling on his hood, completely covering his features.

He was ready.

* * *

><p>Sim'baja slowly drew Chillrend, shivering slightly as the familiar hiss permeated the air. He gently touched the blade to Urzoga gra-Shugurz' collarbone, watching her flinch as the surrounding skin frosted over. "Open the gates," he told her, motioning toward the pulley system. The orc looked bewildered but motioned the guard all the same. As the gates slid open, Sim'baja adjusted the bag on his shoulders, before backing into Cidhna Mine.<p>

As the gates slid closed, Sim'baja sheathed Chillrend, turned, and vaulted over the railing, landing in the center of the main cavern. The prisoners were gathered around the small fire, eating some stale loaves of bread. A couple looked up at him, and he saw Vex sitting across from him wearing a ragged dress. She looked up at him in confusion as he pulled down the facial mask, revealing his features. "You got arrested on a job or something?" she asked him, her lip curled slightly in a sneer. It turned into a frown as she looked him over. "They actually let you keep your weapons and armor?"

"No," Sim'baja replied, rummaging in the bag. "I held the mercenaries at sword point until they opened the gates. Delvin contacted me yesterday and told me about the job, so I thought I would come and rescue your sorry ass. Aha!" With a hard tug he pulled out Vex's armor. Tossing it to her, he then turned the bag over, emptying it of the Imperial swords and shields he had brought. The disguised soldiers, whom he had had slowly get arrested over the course of two weeks, took up their gear and formed up behind their Legate.

"Vex, stay behind the formation and DO NOT ATTACK! Men, we are going to have to go through the gates. Hadvar, I want your shield pressed against the gatekeeper's window to prevent them from firing there. Form a standard phalanx around him. Form up, three columns!" There was a shuffle of feet before the dozen men marched into the formation ordered. Reaching into the bag, he drew out his own shield made of dragon scale. Attaching it to his arm, he then drew Chillrend.

"Forward, March!"

The sound of their marching feet wasn't nearly as thundering as when they were in full Imperial Armor, but it was enough to get the attention of the mercenaries. As they came to a stop in front of the gate and Sim'baja moved in front of them, the mercenaries clustered in front of the primary gate, bows drawn. Taking a deep breath, Sim'baja Shouted the Shout he was never meant to Shout.

"Bex!" _Open!_

The secondary gate shuddered and groaned, before it soared upward, and the guards watched slack-jawed as the men and woman quickly filled the narrow space. Hadvar pressed his shield against the window, and the others formed their shield wall as the mercenaries launched their arrows. Ducking his head behind his shield, Sim'baja weathered the barrage, waiting for his cool down to end.

A minute later, he felt the subtle shift in his energy, before he leapt to his feet, Shouting again. The gate launched open, and he charged forward, slashing left and right. Chillrend hissed like a serpent when the mercenaries' blood slid across it, cooling into a red slush. For an impossible amount of time, he and his soldiers fought, until he came to and found that he was standing in the Understone Keep, watching as the Jarl was being dragged away.

Pulling off his hood, he left the keep, arching his back as he stretched. Rolling his neck, he began the walk to Vlindrel Hall, rubbing a hand through his hair. He reached the house a few minutes later and walked in, tossing his Nightingale hood on a table.

"Nice place you got here," a voice said, and he turned around to see Vex sitting in front of the fireplace. She stood up, and walked over to him, grabbing ahold of his armor. Yanking him forward, she violently engaged him in a lip-lock, and she moaned slightly when he stuck his tongue down her throat. They disengaged a moment later, and she spoke. "I hate to be in a person's debt, and the fact that you broke us out of that prison is very impressive. Take off your clothes, Master, and I'll repay my debt."

* * *

><p>Throwing a now-naked Vex onto his bed, Sim'baja climbed onto her, rubbing his furred paws over her breasts. Vex bucked against him, reaching down and grabbing him, before guiding him to her waiting entrance. "I'm not one for foreplay, so get to it," she said, and he thrust into her, listening to her grunt in pleasure. Grabbing one of her bouncing breasts, he gave it a firm squeeze, before thrusting faster, watching the mounds bounce back and forth as the woman threw her head back. "O-o-o-o-o-h G-o-o-o-o-d-d-d-s!" she screamed, writhing beneath him. She clamped tighter then, unbearably so, and he sprayed his own release into her. Pausing for a few moments to regain his breath, he began thrusting into her again.<p>

The wet sound of flesh slapping flesh was the only sound in the room for a considerable amount of time. The headboard began to shake, despite the fact that it was carved out of the surrounding stone, and Vex slowly became one gurgling orgasm after the other. He kept thrusting in and out, in and out even as he came. By the time he was done, semen was spilling out of her womb and ass onto the stone bed below. Pulling out of her, Sim'baja sighed contentedly, re-dressing in his armor. Pulling the hood back on, he left the Hall, heading wherever the night took him.

* * *

><p>Well, there you have it guys. Next is Ingun Black-Briar. Review and let me know how I did.<p>

-Zeratide


	6. Ingun BlackBriar

Sim'baja sighed as he chewed on the loaf of bread the guards had given him. He sat in one of the numerous cells in the Riften prison, nursing a hangover and a couple of bruises from a bar fight. "When will I be released?" Sim'baja asked one of the guards as she walked by. The woman ignored him, conducting her normal rounds. Resigning himself to a number of days in prison, rather than a suicidal escape attempt without any weaponry, he lay back on his cot, closing his eyes and falling asleep.

Some hours later, Sim'baja was awoken by one of the guards throwing a bucketful of water in his face. Spluttering as he sat up, he shook, the water flying from his fur as he glared at the man's helmet. "Come on, cat," he said as he unlocked the door and threw in a bag containing his equipment. "Your bail has been paid." Sighing, Sim'baja sat up and dressed, before following the guard out. He shielded his eyes and hissed in annoyance as the sun aggravated his hangover, but he smiled as he turned to see a familiar figure.

"Greetings, Ingun Black-Briar," he drawled, adding a slightly sultry purr to her name. Ingun, to her credit, barely batted an eyelash at the flirting, but she gave him a warm smile.

"Greetings, Sim'baja. If you have not figured out already, I paid your bail. I was wondering if I might request your assistance in another alchemical experiment." Sim'baja's lips curled into a Cheshire grin, making him appear even more feline, before he nodded, rolling his shoulders. "Excellent. I need you to test out some poisons and potions for me. There are a number of bandits holed up in a nearby ruin that you can use the poison on, and the potions won't harm you, so you can test them yourself and tell me their effects. Does that sound agreeable to you?"

"I have blades and armor, I have free time, and I have some stress to relieve. Killing will allow me to utilize all these. I accept your request." She silently handed him the poisons, and told him what each was supposed to do, before pointing out the ruin on his map. "Shall I return to your family's lodge to the east once I am done?"

"Yes, that will do fine," she told him, and they went their separate ways, Sim'baja watching the sway of her hips as she walked away.

* * *

><p>Several hours later, Sim'baja strode through the front door of the lodge, disturbing the guards with a blood-flecked grin. "Ingun!" he called, pulling his boots off once he was inside. "Ingun, I have tested the poisons!" He heard her call down from the upper floor, and followed the sound of her voice to her room. Pausing in front of the closed door, he knocked, announcing himself, and she called him in. Opening the door, he was amazed to see her standing in thigh-high calfskin boots and a black corset made of cowhide with a frame of horker tusks. She wore no underwear, and her dripping folds were clearly revealed for him to see. The top of the corset had two half-circles cut out, obviously meant for her breasts, and the large mounds hung in plain sight, revealing blood red nipples.<p>

"My mother spends all of her time now at Mistveil Keep, attending to her duties as Jarl," Ingun said, sashaying toward him. "As such, it gives me a great deal of time to myself, which enables me to bring whoever I want here to have sex." She gently undid his belts and clasps, allowing his Ancient Shrouded Armor to fall to the floor and leaving him bare-chested. Another movement and his pants were around his ankles, displaying his soldier standing at attention. "My, my, aren't we a healthy cat?" she said, kneeling in front of him. Sim'baja leaned against the door, closing his eyes as she engulfed him in her hot mouth, swirling her tongue over the tip as she bobbed. A few minutes into the blowjob, his legs began to feel weak, and she began bobbing her head faster, making wet slurping sounds as she took him deeper and deeper down her throat. The chorded muscle in Sim'baja's neck bulged out as he suddenly sprayed his load down her throat, his body going slack as he did. Ingun greedily slurped down his essence, swallowing every drop, before pulling an unmarked potion off of her dresser.

"This is a little concoction of my own," she said, pulling the top off. "I designed it to increase a man's sexual resilience. Take a hit of this, and it'll take you hours of hard pounding to get even a little soft." Sim'baja quickly downed the entire potion, watching with a mild fascination as he became straight and hard as a steel bar. Ingun gave him a sultry grin, before straddling him and rubbing her pelvis against him, her wet folds stroking his shaft teasingly. Sim'baja's lip curled up in a snarl, and he grabbed her hips, holding her still as he thrust into her, enveloping himself in her soaking, velvety folds. "Oooohhh…" she moaned, biting her lower lip and closing her eyes as she began bouncing. "Your Khajit blood seems to combine especially well with the potion… you're much harder than any of the other races I've tried this with."

"I take it you have slept with a number of men?" Sim'baja grunted, his eyes rolling back in his head as she rolled her hips.

"At least one of each race, now that I'm doing you," she replied. "Orcs seem especially violent during sex; the only position they know is to take their women from behind, like an animal or slave. The Dunmer are often masochistic, the Altmer are selfish lovers, and the Bosmer are often dirty from their forests. There's not much difference with the different races of Men. The Argonians seem to last the shortest."

"Yes, an Argonian woman told me as much once," he replied, leaning forward and pushing her onto her back. He began thrusting into her as he continued talking. "She and her brother were marauders, and tried to trick me into an ambush so they could kill me and keep the money from the heist. She tried to strike a bargain with me; her life for her pussy. I fucked her raw, then killed her when she tried to do the same to me."

"Well, don't – OH GODS! – worry about that with me. Keep pounding me like this – faster, faster! – and I won't have you killed. If anything, I'll make sure you stay alive so we can do this again!" Ingun screamed out the last word as her orgasm erupted, and she sprayed her juices all over his furred abdomen, and onto the carpet underneath. Sim'baja sprayed another load into her, and found that she had not lied; he was still hard. Ignoring her panting, he rolled her onto her side, lifting one slender leg onto his shoulder, and began thrusting again. The wet smack of flesh against flesh permeated the room, and Sim'baja's nose filled with the sweet, cloying smell of their activity.

"So who makes the best lovers?" Sim'baja asked, slapping her smooth, taut buttocks.

"Women," she joked, "but you are definitely the best man I've ever had."

* * *

><p>Seven agonizingly blissful hours later, Sim'baja was lying on his back, thrusting upward into Ingun's ass as she descended in a reverse cowgirl position. Her buttocks jiggled with each collision, and he groaned as she rolled her hips, grinding him further into her pulsating heat. Just as he began rapidly thrusting, the door flew open, revealing a livid Maven Black-Briar. "Oh shit!" Sim'baja roared, and with one final thrust he sprayed his load deep into her ass, in full view of her mother. Ingun gasped in surprise, trying to hide her breasts with her arms, before trying to hide her dripping folds. Unable to adequately cover either, she tore a blanket off of the bed and flew up off of him wrapping it around herself as he continued to cum, spraying his load onto the carpet instead.<p>

"Ingun, leave us this instant!" she roared, and the girl hurried out of the room as Maven drew a sharp knife from the folds of her robes. "You dare defile one of the Black-Briars?" she asked him, her voice deadly calm. "If I don't kill you myself, the Dark Brotherhood will. I have powerful connections with the Black Hand; they are the leaders of that Assassin's Guild."

"Fool of a woman," he spat, turning to show her his right shoulder. "I _am_ the Black Hand!" Her eyes alit upon the black fur he had permanently dyed with a salve Babette had made for him. The fur was patterned into a knotted, skeletal hand, and she backpedaled into the door, fear clear on her face for the first time in her life. "If you drop the knife, I will not kill you," he told her, and she quickly surrendered the knife. "Very good. Now I'll tell you what; send your daughter back in here, and as Listener I'll view this entire so-called disgrace as a way to cement good relations between you and my guild. Agreed?" Maven's eyes lit up in understanding, and she gave him a sly smile, along with a nod.

"Very well, Listener. Make sure to stimulate her clit; so few men seem able to understand that that's what really drives a woman wild." Without another word, she left, and Ingun returned, dropping the blankets as he picked her up off the floor. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and he began thrusting into her, one hand massaging her breasts, the other massaging her clit.

"What made her let me come back in here?" Ingun managed to gasp out. Sim'baja grinned, and thrust hard as he used his claws to pinch her clit hard, making her cum instantly.

"Politics."

* * *

><p>Well, there you go. Review, and leave a suggestion as to who should be next.<p>

-Zeratide, out.


	7. Karliah

"Take to the rooftops," Karliah told him as they crept slowly through Windhelm. Sim'baja quickly scaled one of the dozens of close-packed buildings, keeping an eye on the merchant target below. Dressed in his Nightingale armor, he blended seamlessly with the growing darkness around him, almost feeling as though Nocturnal herself was wrapping her arms around him, keeping her agent in darkness. His Night Vision allowed him to keep track of Karliah as she moved seamlessly through the shadows on the ground, creeping closer and closer. The small knife floated in her hand as she reached forward, and he drew his bow, nocking an arrow in case they were caught by any guards. Karliah had years of practice, however, and she cut the man's purse from his belt so seamlessly that Sim'baja himself nearly missed it. Within moments she was gone, and the man was none the wiser.

Returning the arrow to his quiver and putting his bow away, he slid down the angle of the roof, catching the edge as he went over. Swinging toward the building, he caught the ledge of the window, and then began climbing down the side. Within a few seconds, he was on the ground, and walking casually through the streets, Karliah materializing next to him. "This one takes it that we took in a good haul?"

"Good enough," she said in her soft voice. "I managed to grab about five hundred septims, as well as two sapphires. Here's your cut," she said, handing him one of the sapphires and a small, separate purse she had put the septims in. "Split equally between partners, as it were," she told him. Sim'baja nodded, pulling down the mask and pulling back the hood as they strolled through the Grey Quarter. Karliah also pulled back her own hood, and he led her to the New Gnisis Cornerclub.

"I… I don't usually drink," she murmured as they walked in. There were several Dunmer spread here and there, as well as a Nord or two, but Karliah seemed uncomfortable regardless.

Sim'baja snorted, a grin curling across his Khajit features. "A thief who doesn't drink… never heard that one before." Karliah gave him an exasperated look, and his grin widened. "Just a drink or two, and then we'll be gone from this city," he told her. Karliah sighed, pocketing all but a few coins of her take. The rest were handed over to the bartender, and a few moments later they were both sitting at one of the tables, Karliah drinking ale and Sim'baja drinking Black-Briar Reserve.

"You don't do anything cheaply, do you?" she asked softly, pointing at his bottle. Sim'baja grinned again, drinking a swallow before answering.

"In Elsweyr, this one's father taught him many different things. Stealth, blade work, archery, blocking with a shield… he was an honorable Khajit, a soldier in the Imperial Legions. Something they called a 'Ghost'. He was actually given a medal by the Emperor himself."

"What was his name?"

"J'Kharzo." Sim'baja drank another swallow, before continuing. "Side story, though. When this one was a child, J'Kharzo took him hunting in the jungle. There were dozens of small animals we passed, and Khajit always wanted to stop and get each one, but J'Kharzo would always say, 'The best, son, only the best.' You see, as a Ghost, his job was to sow discord throughout the ranks of the enemy, and he would do so by silently freeing prisoners and killing Officers stealthily. Of course, he also fought in battle, too, so that's how he possessed the combat skills he taught this one. But that is another side story. Anyway, as we were going through the jungle, we came across a lion. 'This is the best, son,' J'Kharzo said. 'Steady now, and fight well.' Next thing Khajit knew, his father was gone, with all of his weapons. It turns out that it wasn't a hunting trip after all; it was his way of turning this one into a man." Sim'baja took a long draught, slamming the empty bottle on the table before shouting for another.

"It sounds morbidly exciting," Karliah said softly, taking a sip of her ale. "I take it you wound up fighting the lion with your claws?"

"Yes," Sim'baja replied. "Long story short, this one gained the claw-scars on his nose and killed the lion. 'The best,' J'Kharzo taught him. He fought the best, and gained much honor, so now he only does the best." Karliah favored him with a soft smile, and finished her drink even as the man brought Sim'baja another Reserve. Handing the man the coins, he stood as Karliah did, drinking the mead as they walked out. "The Dragon Blood in this one makes many bests better than other's bests possible. Another would not be able to go to Sovngarde alive, but this one did."

"You tell the most fascinating stories, but I fear that most of them ring false," she teased, pushing gently on his shoulder. Sim'baja just smiled, scratching at his black, mane-like hair before he pulled the hood back up. "Just how old are you, Sim'baja?"

"Thirty-six," he replied, pulling up the mask. "And you?"

"Much, much older," she replied, giving another soft smile. "Dunmer live very long lives, and it takes a long time for us to age."

"This one has known several Dunmer," Sim'baja said. "He even loved one once." He fell silent then, and they left Windhelm, riding off into the snowy lands.

* * *

><p>It was a few weeks later that they joined together again for a job. This time they did a swift heist of the Silver-Blood home in Markarth, dressed in their regular Thieves Guild attire so as to be able to carry off more items in the additional pouches, and the job went off without a hitch. Darkness was beginning to fall as they made their way stealthily toward the gates of Markarth, but they found the gates barred. "Sorry folks, but there's been a sighting of the Forsworn," the guards were telling the assemblage of travelers in front of the gates. "The gates will have to remain closed tonight.<p>

"Sim'baja has a home here in Markarth," the Khajit told his partner as it began to rain. "We can stay there tonight." A few minutes later, they were inside, ringing the rainwater from their hair and fur. "This one is going to take a bath in the back," he told her as he began removing his leather armor. "This one usually keeps some women's clothing in case he is traveling with a companion, so you can find something to wear. Yell if you need anything." Karliah nodded, shrugging out of her own clothing as he left the room.

The Dwemer pipes and heaters hissed as he turned the nozzles on the stone tub, before the hot water came gushing out, quickly filling the tub. He stopped the flow when it was halfway full, before pulling off his pants and sinking into the water. Running his claws through his fur, he began to clean himself, the small amount of accumulated dirt sinking to the bottom. Once he was done, he quietly leaned back, closing his eyes and enjoying the warmth.

He never heard her enter, didn't hear as she climbed into the bathtub with him; he noticed Karliah's presence only when he felt her foot slide up his thigh, playing against his groin before poking his stomach. His eyes opened in surprise, and he looked at her to see her submerged to her chin, sighing as she enjoyed the warmth. The minerals in the land made the water cloudy, making it impossible for him to see her breasts, or her to see his groin, but her foot kept moving against him, making him harden from her ministrations. "This is nice," she said, leaning back and lifting her arms as she stretched. She arched her back just enough for him to see the top of her small breasts, but not enough to see what he wanted.

"Indeed," he drawled, grabbing her legs and pulling her toward him. The water sloshed as she floated forward, and within moments she was sitting on his lap, her core less than an inch from his manhood. With her torso now out of the water, he could see her breasts, and he fondled them gently as she ran her hands over the soft fur on his chest, moaning at his attention. Leaning forward, he captured one dark nipple in his mouth, licking and teasing the little bud until it was as hard as he was. Switching over to the other, he listened to her moan and felt her grind against him.

"Please," she whispered, her voice soft as ever yet full of lust. "Please, I want you in me." Pulling away from her breasts, he lifted her gently until his tip was pressed against her. Bringing her down softly, he teased her by just barely inserting the tip, listening to her heavy breathing. Slowly, ever so slowly, he pulled her down onto him until he was completely inside her, her soft folds squeezing him gently.

_By the Nine, is everything about her soft? _he wondered as they began moving against each other. He thrust up into her even as she rolled her hips forward and back, grinding and bouncing with his thrusts. Her breasts jiggled a little as they moved, and the water in the tub sloshed back and forth, spilling onto the bathroom floor. Karliah bit the corner of her lower lip in an effort to keep silent, but every now and then her moans made it through, inspiring him to move faster and harder. She pulled him against her, her breasts pressed against his chest as she wrapped her arms around him, knotting her fingers in his fur. She pressed her face into his shoulder, whimpering as her hips suddenly began to shake erratically, signaling her climax. Her walls fluttered tighter and looser quickly, milking him as he came as well, shooting rope after rope deep into her womb.

"I needed that," she murmured as she pulled her face out of his shoulder. "I haven't been with a man since Gallus died." She ran her hands through his damp mane, feeling the many rings and braids woven in. "If you want, we could continue this for tonight. But I swore to myself that after what happened to Gallus, I would never become romantically involved with a fellow Nightingale ever again. Whatever happens tonight, it ends here."

"As you say," Sim'baja said, thrusting once as he began to harden. Karliah leaned back, submerging most of her body in the water while raising one lithe, muscled leg to rest on his shoulder. He began thrusting, pushing her back until she was against the end of the tub, resting against the carved curve of the stone. Sim'baja thrust in and out, his body rising out of the water and re-submerging with a wet smack each time. Karliah pulled his head to hers, meeting his lips in a fierce kiss, her tongue darting into his mouth even as his fought back for dominance. His hands occupied themselves with her breasts, running his calluses over her smooth skin, causing goosebumps to appear. He added a hip roll to his thrusts, and, still sensitive from her last orgasm, she came again, shuddering beneath him.

Flipping her onto her hands and knees, he began thrusting into her in the new position, leaning over her so his chest was pressed against her back. Her buttocks pressed against his pelvis as he thrusts in, making a fleshy slap whenever they collided with his skin, and he firmly grasped her hips, running his thumbs against the smooth skin even as he continued to thrust. Karliah moaned and whimpered, screamed and thrashed, and came again and again. By the time they were finished, there was only an inch or two of water left in the tub, and even with the water's cloudy state, they both could see his seed floating around her submerged calves. As he pulled out of her, a little more poured out, dropping into the water with a quiet plop.

"Remember what I said," Karliah murmured as she rose on shaky legs out of the tub. "It ends tonight."

* * *

><p>Review with your suggestions for the next chapter. Remember, this fic is for the women you CAN'T marry without console commands, so I will for the most part skip over those you can.<p>

-Zeratide, out.


	8. The Duel: Dovahkiin vs Stormcloak

Hey guys! Well, this chapter is not one of the usual. There is no sex in this one; instead, there is a duel to the death. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

><p>Sim'baja sat silently on a bench in Elisif's throne room, observing the comings and goings of the people of Solitude. His new Legate armor, which General Tullius had insisted he wear for at least a few days (since he never wore any of the other armor they issued him), weighed heavily on his lithe body, but he was strong enough to fight in it, so he was strong enough to sit in it for a few hours. Elisif graciously finished her conversation with one of her subjects, and finally turned to him, beckoning him forward. "What do you need, my friend?" she asked him, her soft voice causing him to shiver ever so slightly as he bowed.<p>

"This one wished to speak with you, to tell you that our war is almost over. Windhelm is all that remains, and as we speak General Tullius is preparing the Legion for a full assault in two weeks' time. Once Ulfric is gone you will be crowned High Queen." Elisif favored him with a sad, yet pleased smile.

"Why don't you join me in my quarters?" she asked, rising to her feet. "I wish to discuss this final battle in a setting more private than this." Sim'baja bowed his head, dutifully following her to the room she had shared with her late husband. Elisif beckoned him in, and once he entered, she closed and locked the door, before leaning against the wood and sighing. "I wish things had gone differently," she said, taking two bottles of ale down from the shelves. "If Ulfric had merely asked Torygg's assistance, my husband would have aided him. Instead, that foolhardy man murdered him."

"Forgive this one for saying so, but such is life," Sim'baja said, taking a deep draught of ale. "Sim'baja's father, J'Kharzo, used to hammer the message into this one's brain when they were training. 'You nearly died fighting a lion? Such is life.' 'You are sick with Ataxia? Such is life.' As his father lay dying in his arms, his body stained with the blood this one was trying to keep from pouring out of Khajit's chest, he gently grasped this one's arm, and said with his dying breath, 'Such is life.'" Elisif was silent for several minutes while Sim'baja drank his ale, his eyes shadowed with the memory of his father's death as he sat down on a chair. "Once he was retired from the Legion, J'Kharzo started a small trading caravan and traveled through Tamriel. This one and three others went with him. When Khajit were in Valenwood, we came upon one of the Thalmor's 'Cleansings.' J'Kharzo died fighting the Thalmor so some of the Bosmer could escape. This one was just a kitten of thirteen."

"I'm so sorry," Elisif whispered, gently pressing a comforting hand on the pauldron of his armor. Sim'baja remained silent, but his eyes softened slightly. "Once this war is over, I'll issue a proclamation that the Khajit caravans are to be permitted within the Hold Capitals," she said, taking a sip of her ale. "I'll make it a way of honoring your father, and the service you did me with my husband's war horn."

"The title of Thane is enough for this one," Sim'baja said, "but he will take it as his father's gift. Khajit would have been honored to benefit his brethren in such a way." Sim'baja took another draught of his ale, emptying the bottle before pulling a bottle of Black-Briar Reserve from the food pouch on his belt. Taking two silver goblets from the shelf behind him, he uncorked the bottle, pouring the sweat mead. "To J'Kharzo and Torygg, two unlike any other," he said, and they both drank.

* * *

><p>Sim'baja returned to the throne room three days later, dressed in his preferred Nightingale armor with Chillrend on his hip. The hood was down, allowing him to enjoy the breeze through his mane, and as he gazed up at the Solitude sky, he saw several clouds hovering overhead. <em>Looks like it will rain,<em> he thought, hurrying to the castle. He needed to speak with Sybil about the vampires she had asked him to slay, and he hoped not to have to trudge back to Proudspire in the storm. _While I could just use Clear Skies, it hasn't rained in a while here, and the soil needs the water. I'll just have to hurry._

As it turned out, the Court Mage had gone to one of the outlying towns to help someone who had fallen ill due to magical influences. Before he could leave, however, Elisif spotted him, and called out his name. He immediately turned to face her, bowing as he did so, and strode forward, hands resting on his hips. "What can Khajit do for you?" he asked, grinning. Elisif paused for several moments, before rising from her throne.

"I wish to speak to you about the upcoming assault on Windhelm," she told him. "If you would follow me to my quarters, we may speak privately." He bowed once again, following her as she strode forward. As they reached her room, he heard a thunderclap from outside, and inwardly sighed. _Looks like a water-logged trip home,_ he thought. Elisif noticed as well, glancing out her window as the rain began to fall. "I am sorry to keep you, but I have a… request to make of you."

"Whatever you would have of Khajit, he will do," Sim'baja said.

"You ought to listen before you agree," Elisif said, sitting down on one side of the table in her room, waiting for him to sit as well. "I, like everyone in Skyrim, know that you are Dragonborn. I also know that, as Dragonborn, you have trained with the Greybeards in the art of the Thu'um. This brings me to my request." She hesitated, rubbing her hands together, before taking a deep breath. "Ulfric Shouted my husband to pieces, and I know that he will abuse the power of the Voice in this battle, use it to kill many Legionnaires. You are the only person who has any chance of successfully slaying him. I heard about the Nord tradition Balgruuf and Ulfric used to start the Battle of Whiterun, so I ask that you challenge Ulfric to single combat, and end this war."

Sim'baja was silent for several seconds, staring bewilderedly at the woman, before replying. "If such a thing could save so many lives, this one would do it. But this one cannot make the terms that Ulfric would agree to without General Tullius' consent, and he would never risk the entire war on the blade of one man."

"Then do not fight him as a Legionnaire," Elisif said. "Challenge him as Dragonborn. Tell him that he has abused the power of the Voice, corrupted it from the purpose for which it was taught to him. The Greybeards only taught him because he had agreed to become one of them, and he left their order once he had all of the skills he needed to try and take over Skyrim. Surely that alone would be cause for battle."

"The Greybeards would not like this one using them as an excuse. However…" he hesitated, knowing that his life hung on his next words. "Ulfric Stormcloak has caused the slaughter of many innocents. Sim'baja will challenge him on behalf of those slain from both sides in this war he started."

"I swear, I shall find some way to repay you," Elisif said, hugging him tightly.

"Well, this one will have to make sure he returns alive to claim it."

* * *

><p>The next day, Sim'baja dismounted Shadowmere at the Windhelm stables, beginning the long walk across the bridge. His tongue darted across his lips as he once again focused on the unfamiliar weight of the axe on his right hip. <em>What am I doing?<em> he thought as he walked through the gates. He saw a Dunmer woman being accosted by the racist Nord whose name always escaped him, but whom he had already beaten for a similar action. The man saw him and quickly ran away, leaving the Dunmer woman a chance to escape. His resolve doubled as he watched her run, and he picked up the pace, until the doors came into sight.

"Ulfric Stormcloak!" he shouted as he strode into the Palace of Kings. Everyone in the hall turned to stare at him silently, and Sim'baja felt the back of his neck itch as he strode forward. Ulfric opened his mouth to speak, but Sim'baja drew the steel axe, slamming it into the wood of the longtable. A collective gasp rose from the former Jarls and their servants, but Sim'baja did not move, his gaze boring into Ulfric's. "The Dragonborn challenges you," he said. The man slowly rose, a deep growl in his throat and a fire burning in his eyes.

"Keep that axe, cat. You'll be needing it."

* * *

><p>Three days later, he stood across from Ulfric on the bridge leading to Windhelm's gate. The walls and parapets were covered in spectators, civilians and soldiers alike, and he heard the Stormcloaks calling jeers and taunts to the stony-faced Legionnaires. Sim'baja had not changed out of his Nightingale armor, while Ulfric was wearing a full set of steel, sans hood. Galmar handed Ulfric his weapon and a shield, murmuring something unheard to his commander, while Sim'baja alone strode forward, stopping once he was a dozen paces away, as was the Nord custom.<p>

"Try and get him to tire out," Rikke told him as she presented him his sword, holding it by the sheathe with the hilt facing him. "That steel armor of his will stop your blows but it will slow him down. If you can get him to the point where he's taking it off, you've just about won." Sim'baja drew Chillrend without flare, the blade pouring mist into the cold air, gleaming like ice as he adjusted it slightly in his grip. Spellbreaker hung on his left arm, Peryite's Artifact slightly weaker than his preferred Dragonscale but better suited for stopping Shouts with its enchantment. Ulfric slowly drew his axe, reveling in the cheers of his men, while the Legionnaires remained silent, the epitome of discipline. Galmar and Rikke fell back, and everything fell completely silent. There were no rules for how the fight was to commence; there were no judges, no referees. The Nord way was to fight until one man lay dead.

Sim'baja instantly charged, blade swinging in deadly arcs to distract his opponent from his shield. Ulfric reared his head, a Shout forming on his lips, and Sim'baja halted, bringing his shield up as Ulfric used Unrelenting Force. The blast came flying, slamming into the shield, and the Ward shattered audibly, the sound echoing in the silence. Sim'baja's arm was jarred, but he remained on his feet, stance normal and unable to be knocked down. Ulfric's eyes widened in surprise, and Sim'baja knew that he would be unable to use another shout for some time. Rearing back his own head, he Shouted out, "YOL TOOR SHUL!" The flames leapt forth, hot and hungry, and despite his shield Ulfric disappeared in a halo of fire, his silhouette barely visible in the flames. Sim'baja heard the shouts of fury from the Stormcloaks, until Ulfric managed to dive to the side, his steel blackened but otherwise unharmed.

"I see that there will be no honor in this fight," he rumbled, hefting his axe.

"You are not to speak of honor," Sim'baja said, "considering that you used the Voice to kill Torygg." He charged forward, bending backward and sliding on the icy stone as he reached Ulfric, the man's axe swinging over his head, before he rose and made a backward slash at the man. Ulfric just barely managed to deflect the blow with his shield, Chillrend's blade slicing a few strands of fur from the kilt of the armor. "If need be, this one will take you apart piece by piece."

"I will not lose to a cat!" Ulfric roared, and he charged forward, swinging his axe with as much strength as he could muster. Sim'baja blocked the attack with his shield, quickly slicing at the man's neck, but Ulfric spun around Sim'baja's body, trying to hack into the Khajit's shoulder blades as he came out of it. Sim'baja fell forward, landing in a push-up position, before running forward on all fours like the lions he had fought in Elsweyr. A dozen feet away from Ulfric he stopped and rose to his full height, tracing circles by his leg with his blade while Ulfric slowly advanced, his shield held before him in anticipation of an attack. Sim'baja ceased moving so suddenly that Ulfric nearly dove to the side, and the instant he saw that the man's stance adjusted in anticipation of the dodge he charged, leaping into the air and stabbing downward at the man's unprotected neck.

Ulfric managed to skirt to the side, the blade scratching his pauldron as it slid across, and Ulfric slammed his axe into the side of the shield, causing it to twist in Sim'baja's grip and jerk his wrist, making him cry out in pain as it went skittering away.

"ZUN HAAL VIIK!" Ulfric Shouted, and Sim'baja's eyes widened as Chillrend went flying from his hand, quivering as it stabbed into the gap between two stones in western wall of the bridge. Ulfric then slammed his shield into Sim'baja's chest, the Khajit choking as he went down. As he lay there, gasping for breath, Ulfric began removing his armor until he was left in his usual clothing. Hurling the shield away, he raised his axe, shaking it in the air to the cheers of his men.

Sim'baja groaned as he tried to rise, wincing as his chest flared in pain. Ulfric slowly strode forward, hefting his axe. _No,_ Sim'baja thought, crawling back. _No, I was supposed to win._

Ulfric reached him, and as Sim'baja closed his eyes, waiting for the end, something strange happened. He heard a boom, followed by silence. Both combatants paused, trying to find the source of the sound, until they saw a Nord Legionnaire, tall of stature and of sun-kissed hair, beat twice on a giant war-drum. He repeated the beats, and when he went to repeat again, the other Nord Legionnaires began to shout while someone lightly blew a war horn. The sounds reached crescendo, and Sim'baja suddenly felt his blood boil, heat and energy and _strength_ running through his dragon blood. In an instant he was up, and as they began to sing the Song of the Dragonborn in the Old Tongue, the Dragon Tongue, he lashed out, his claws tearing Ulfric's face.

"_Dovahkiin, Dovahkiin, naal ok zin los vahriin,  
>Wah dein vokul mahfaeraak ahst vaal!<em>

As the man shouted in surprise, the Khajit Shouted, sending Ulfric's axe spinning away.

"_Ahrk fin norok paal graan fod nust hon zindro zaan,  
>Dovahkiin, fah hin kogaan mu draal!"<em>

Ulfric lashed out with a heavy swing, and he ducked, going low and sweeping up a fistful of snow. As he rose, he hurled the snow in Ulfric's eyes, blinding him. As Ulfric threw a blind jab, Sim'baja leaned to the side, before slicing through Ulfric's left cheek, leaving it in bloody ribbons.

"_Huzrah nu, kul do od, wah aan bok lingrah vod,  
>Ahrk fin tey, boziik fun, do fin gein!<br>Wo lost fron wah ney dov, ahrk fin reyliik do jul,  
>Voth aan suleyk wah ronit faal krein"<em>

In the next moment, he slammed both his palms into the man's ears, causing him to stumble and suffer double-vision. Ulfric went down to one knee, arms up to try and hold him balance, before he finally managed to rise.

"_Ahrk fin zul, rok drey kod, nau tol morokei frod,  
>Rul lot Taazokaan motaad voth kein!<br>Sahrot Thu'um, med aan tuz, vey zeim hokoron pah,  
>Ol fin Dovahkiin komeyt ok rein!"<em>

Growling in anger, he threw a wild haymaker, which Sim'baja beat with an elbow block. The next second, his claws sunk into Ulfric's abdomen. Wheezing and couching blood, Ulfric tried another attack, a feral left swing, which Sim'baja then blocked, slamming his fist into the man's jaw before digging his claws into it.

"_Ahrk fin Kel lost prodah, do ved viing ko fin krah,  
>Tol fod zeymah win kein meyz fundein!<br>Alduin, feyn do jun, kruziik vokun staadnau,  
>Voth aan bahlok wah diivon fin lein!"<em>

Ulfric tried to Shout at him, but Sim'baja had him by the jaw and tore his head to the side, forcing Ulfric onto the ground.

"_Nuz aan sul, fent alok, fod fin vul dovah nok,  
>Fen kos nahlot mahfaeraak ahrk ruz!<br>Paaz Keizaal fen kos stin nol bein Alduin jot,  
>Dovahkiin kos fin saviik do muz!"<em>

"Do you know what this one never understood about Nords?" Sim'baja asked as he lifted Ulfric to his feet. "This one has never understood why they would show off before making the killing blow." He slammed his fist repeatedly into Ulfric's head, before throwing him against a section of the wall. "Now punishment… vengeance… this one understands that. That is why Sim'baja speaks now, that you may know that you _will_ die now." Raising his hand, he shouted out "ZUN!" Chillrend quivered in the stone, before it shot out and into his hand. The instant the hilt touched his hand, he turned it, jabbing down until the blade sunk into Ulfric's chest. The Nord choir silenced, and the Stormcloaks shouted out in fury and disbelief. Blood bubbled in the corner of Ulfric's mouth as the man looked down at his chest in shock. Sim'baja withdrew Chillrend, red slush exiting with the blade, and he turned on one foot, spinning around and slicing through Ulfric's neck. The man's head spun into the air, landing a few feet away.

Sim'baja strode silently through the gates of Windhelm, ignoring the sounds behind him. When he reached the Palace of Kings, he Shouted the doors apart, striding through the grand hall. Turning to face the city, he sat upon the throne.


	9. Elisif

Sim'baja strode forward with slow, measured steps as the drums and horns sounded. _Relax, _he thought to himself as the scars on his nose itched as they did whenever he was nervous. The Jagged Crown rested in his palms, gleaming in the sun. _The Jarls chose the **Dragonborn**. The only way to make sure that the Stormcloaks don't object to her crowning is by having their prophesized hero do it himself._

The drums, horns, and cheering and jeering people fell silent the instant his foot touched the final step of the temporary scaffolding made so everyone could see. Elisif knelt in the center of the scaffolding, and the High Priest of the Temple of the Divines stood beside her as Sim'baja stood behind her, holding the Crown before himself. The Priest rattled off the speech and oaths that were the Nord custom, and Sim'baja felt every eye on him as he stood in the party clothes and boots he had worn when he had infiltrated the Thalmor Embassy, with the addition of a fine hat and black leather gloves.

"Dragonborn," the High Priest said, and somehow the surroundings had managed to become even quieter, "you stand as the Hero of Skyrim, Thane to each of the Nine Holds, War Hero of the Civil War and named Ysmir, the Dragon of the North, by the Greybeards themselves. As such, you are beyond reproach in your next decision. If you believe the Jarls have chosen correctly in their Moot, then place the Jagged Crown upon Elisif's head."

Sim'baja held the Crown above his head for all to see, and in a slow movement marked with all the finality that he could summon, he placed the Jagged Crown upon her brow.

The crowd burst into cheers, the drums sounded, and the horns blasted as Elisif rose, waiting for the proper amount of celebration time before raising her hands. "The Dragonborn and the Jarls have made their choice, and I hope that it is one to which you all are well pleased. By my right as High Queen, and as a reward for the faithful service rendered by both the Dragonborn and his father, J'Kharzo, I hereby declare that the Khajit caravans are to be permitted limited entry into the capitals of each of the Nine Holds, until such a time as each individual Jarl believes they are trustworthy enough to be permitted full access."

"This one thanks you for the law, incomplete though it may be as of now," Sim'baja whispered in her ear as she made her way off the scaffolding. "Soon Khajit will come for his own reward that we discussed."

* * *

><p>Sim'baja sighed as he strode to the Blue Palace several weeks later. Well, maybe not <em>sighed<em>: the sound that came from his throat was a growling, breathy sound that bespoke both relaxation and mild weariness. He was still a young Khajit, but he was beginning to feel the effects of a lifetime of hard conflict. His back was sore for several days after a heavy battle, and his neck was aching after more mild knocks to the head than usual. To ease some of his pains, he had forgone armor, dressing in the same clothing he had worn at Elisif's coronation.

"Greetings, Thane," one of the guardsmen said as he walked through the large doors, and he nodded politely to the man, before climbing the steps to the upper floor. Elisif sat tall on the throne, the Jagged Crown looking fierce yet refined upon her head, and Sim'baja knelt before the throne.

"My Queen, this one wishes to speak to you of the matter we discussed the day of your coronation," he said as he rose. "If your affairs here are concluded for the day, he would invite you to Proudspire to discuss the matter further." Elisif gave him a slight, knowing smile, before she rose.

"I will be attending to matters of state with the Dragonborn at Proudspire Manor. The rest of you are free to attend whatever affairs you have." The Thanes, merchants, and other people began filing down the stairs as Elisif removed the Crown, handing it to Bolgeir. "Place the Crown on the bust in my room, and make sure it is guarded. I will be in the company of the Dragonborn, so you need not worry for my protection, Bolgeir. Am I understood?"

"Yes, my Queen," the Nord grumbled out, taking the crown and trudging off. Elisif smiled slightly, before stepping down from the throne and looping her arm through Sim'baja's. The two strode down the stairs, talking about common things that would be discussed by those in power, barely drawing the eye of anyone until they were out onto the streets, where only a few people milled about in the afternoon. One or two people gave them a sideways glance, but it was fleeting and unobtrusive. After a few minutes, they reached the doors of Proudspire Manor, and Sim'baja unlocked the door, ushering her in.

"Jordis," Sim'baja greeted, inclining his head slightly. "Why don't you go have a drink or two at the Winking Skeever, visit a friend or something? This one has important matters to discuss with the High Queen. He will be able to protect both if the need arises." Jordis frowned, but rose, bowing slightly before exiting the manor. He led her up to the top floor, and to a table that he had pinned one of the Legion's maps of Skyrim on, complete with the little flag stands. "Would you like a bottle of mead?" Sim'baja asked, motioning for Elisif to take a seat.

"If you have any Black-Briar Reserve, that would be great," Elisif said, and Sim'baja's lip curled into a sly grin, before he brought out a bottle for each of them. "I feel that I should thank you again for the risk you took in facing Ulfric alone," Elisif said. "You already know how I will thank you, but I feel that the words should be said regardless." Sim'baja smiled, taking another sip of mead, before Elisif sighed. "You know, I was in the crowd when you fought Ulfric. In disguise. I was worried when he had you on the ground, but I was amazed when I saw you rise. I never thought that the Song of the Dragonborn would infuse one of the Dragon Blood with such strength."

"This one had no idea that it would either," Sim'baja said. "Once Khajit was up and had him disarmed, the key was the claws. J'Kharzo was an excellent teacher when it came to fighting, and he taught this one that Khajit should always try and get a punctured grip on whatever you need to manipulate." Elisif nodded, taking a long draught of the mead, and Sim'baja tossed his bottle into a basket on the other side of the room. Leaning back in his chair, he arched his back, stretching his muscles. "Are you ready?" he asked.

Elisif observed him for a moment, setting the bottle of mead on the table, and she rose, walking over to him. Gathering up her skirts, she straddled his waist, gently pressing her lips to his. Sim'baja reciprocated, resting one hand on her hip and the other on her cheek. Her hands slid gently over the front of his clothes, before slowly removing the hat from his head and tossing it onto the table. The gloves were pulled off next, meeting the hat, and after another moment she was working on the lacings of his clothes, pulling off the reddish-pink tunic and leaving him clad in only his pants and boots. Sim'baja swiftly undid the fastenings on the back of her own clothes, leaving her ornate dress and cloak to fall down her shoulders, stopping just as they reached the swell of her breasts.

Elisif removed her arms from the sleeves, before grasping the edge of her dress and pulling it down to her waist, revealing her naked breasts to him. Sim'baja shifted slightly beneath her, making sure that she could feel him harden beneath her, and began teasing the large mounds, first ghosting his hands over them with feather-light touches before taking a nipple in his mouth, running his course tongue over the sensitive bud. Elisif arched forward, burying her hands in the back of his mane and pulling his mouth closer as she gasped, her eyelids fluttering, and Sim'baja felt his blood burn hot. He detached his mouth, sweeping an arm across the map to clear enough of the flags for him to plant her on her back. He reached under the swirl of skirts, tearing off her panties before he undid the laces on his breeches, pulling himself out and moving forward, grabbing her hips and thrusting into her with one hard, swift motion.

Elisif shrieked out as he began to thrust, her head rolling back as she bit her lip, her breasts shaking and bouncing and jiggling with the force of his body's movement against hers. The table began to shake, the heavy wood making a scraping noise as it tried to move from its position, and several of the little flags fell off, the rest rolling and jumping wildly. "By the Eight!" she screamed as she came, walls fluttering and juices spraying, and Sim'baja let out an animalistic roar as he felt his own loins quiver and release. "It's been… so long…" she gasped, her breasts heaving, and Sim'baja adjusted his stance slightly, tightening his grip on her hips.

"This one is not done yet… and trust him, the wait is well worth it…"

* * *

><p>When all was said and done, it was midnight. The table had moved from the center of the room until it was firmly against the wall, and once that was done they had moved to the master bedroom. The sheets and blankets were a twisted mess, and Sim'baja felt remarkably empty as they both redressed, Elisif pausing to wipe again at some of his seed spilling out of her. "Elisif," he said, pausing as he reached for his pants. "One last kiss," he said, beckoning her near. "Down here." A mischievous look came to her face, and she knelt, tucking her hair behind her ears before gripping him with one hand. She gave two slow, teasing licks before she took the tip of him in her mouth. She bobbed her head, going an extra inch further with each descent until her was completely inside her, feeling her tongue slide along the bottom even as she bobbed.<p>

"You certainly possess the skills of a Queen," he told her as he sprayed down her throat. "If you ever tire of the day-to-day life and Khajit happens to be in Solitude, you should look this one up."

* * *

><p>Well, there you go guys. Hope you enjoyed it. Now, given the number of reviews that have asked me to have marriable characters in scenes, I am debating the idea of starting a new fiction that carries on with the same character, but instead goes into his generalized adventures, rather than his sexual ones. Now, if I do that fic, it will be several years into the future, and Sim'baja WILL be married. If you guys would like that kind of fic, let me know in a review, as well as tell me how I did with this chapter.<p>

-Zeratide, out.


	10. Dawnguard

Sim'baja sat up in his bed within Castle Dawnguard, his night vision automatically adjusting to the darkness that had fallen once the candles had burned themselves out. It was slightly cold in the enormous fortress, but his fur kept it at bay even as he padded barefoot through the halls down to the forge. Within minutes there was the sharp ring of hammer on metal as he began creating another Dwarven Crossbow for the members of the organization. The orange metal began to take shape, turning into a golden hue, and after another hour or two, he had the basic weapon down. He tossed it lazily onto the workbench, making a mental note to string it in the morning after he further refined it, before he sat down on the small seat in front of the grinding stone, staring into the coals of the forge.

"You don't strike me as the kind who would avoid a chance to catch a little catnap," Serana's voice said playfully, and he turned to look at her blankly as she snickered at her pun. "No? Sorry." She leaned sat on top of the short stone wall across from him, gazing into the embers as well. "I _do _miss heat," she said simply. "I'm content with what I am, proud of my powers… but I miss the feel of heat on my skin." She glanced at him, noting that he still had barely moved, said not a word. "So what's got you up? Is it the Lycanthropy, or…?"

"Khajiit has not slept well since Solstheim," Sim'baja replied. "When this one closes his eyes, the image of Storn Crag-Strider's demise haunts him still. Hermaeus Mora slaughtered him, pure and simple, and this one lead the man to his doom."

"I know how you feel, but you have to remember that people die every day. It is the way of things. Do you think that living past entire Ages has been easy for me? The people I cared about died _long_ ago, and the only family I had left became corrupted by their goals."

"**_Valar Morghulis_**" he muttered to himself. "This one is through with the Dark Brotherhood. Khajiit has lost a loved one to its treachery, and he has been forced to kill perfectly innocent people. Why was the Black Sacrament performed for a Bosmer who ran a stall at the market to sell meat? Why was it performed for a harmless old man who was driven mad and into homelessness by his sister's death?" He shook his head. "It is one thing to kill men on the battlefield, another entirely to slaughter them like sheep." He rose to his feet, rolling his neck as he strode back to his bed.

* * *

><p>Ingjard had fuller breasts that the Dawnguard armor made it seem. Sim'baja felt their heat nearly roasting him as he thrust between them, his rough paws tracing patterns on their sensitive flesh while his tail rubbed against her shaved mound. The woman came hard, grunting as she clamped her thighs around his tail, her body quivering as she rode her orgasm. Sim'baja released her breasts, quickly moving down, prying open her legs until he was kneeling between her thighs, pressing against her at just enough of an angle so that she could feel the force behind it, but it wasn't in her yet. "Now," she growled out, grabbing his hips. "Get in me NOW!" He complied, thrusting into her with one swift move, before he began to tap out a rhythm that was as fast as it was hard. The woman's eyes rolled back, her toes curled, and she screamed obscenities that even he found impressive as she came yet again. In an instant however, he suddenly felt a strong arm on his shoulders, and he let out a rather unmanly yelp as he was thrown onto his back and the woman began riding him.<p>

* * *

><p>"What's wrong?" she asked, her breasts bouncing up and down in time with her movements. "Is the little kitty afraid of a strong Nord woman?" He moved to sit up, but she moved forward, lashing his wrists to the bedpost with some leather strips he hadn't seen laying around. "My turn," she said, a worrisome glint in her eye.<p>

"Khajiit feels violated," he told Serana the next day, shivering slightly as he saw Ingjard pass through one of the halls and out of sight. Serana giggled slightly at that, shaking her head.

"How does it feel to not be in control of sex for once?" she asked, nudging his rib with an elbow. He gave her a flat look, and her giggles turned into full-blown laughter, the vampire barely managing to stay in her chair with how was doubled over.

"Khajiit fails to see how this is so funny," he replied, turning back toward his breakfast.

* * *

><p>Mossy Glen Cave wasn't really that bad once the bears were cleared out. At the very least, it seemed that Beleval enjoyed it; the moment they had finished killing the bears after she had dragged him along with instructions from Isran to clear out the place, she had dropped to her knees and yanked his trousers down around his ankles so fast his belt nearly caught his manhood and took it with it. Before he could yelp in surprise she had taken him into her mouth, quickly bobbing and working her throat to make him hard. She yanked at the straps on her armor as she did so, quickly revealing that she didn't wear any undergarments whatsoever. <em>Well, Bosmer <em>_**are**__ known for being close to nature,_ he thought.

The moment he was hard, Beleval moved away, quickly getting on her hands and knees in front of him. Within a moment he was thrusting into her, the woman grunting for the first few minutes as she adjusted to him, before she started panting. "Come on, faster, faster!" she groaned, her hair covering what little of her face he could see from this angle, and he obliged, moving faster and thrusting harder, his grip on her full hips tightening. "Right there, right there… don't stop…" she managed to gasp out. Sim'baja grinned slightly, mentally comparing her to another Bosmer girl he had been with (it had been the night before that fateful Cleansing) and finding the experience even more interesting. "FUCK!" she suddenly shouted, making him jump slightly, before she suddenly became a vice around him, preventing him from moving as he shouted out, the walls coaxing his own release from his body.

It was an hour later when he was deep inside her other hole in the same position that Sorine happened to stumble upon them. Her expression shifted from curiosity into shock, quickly transforming to amusement. "Well, I guess I know why you two have been taking so long," she said, a devilish smile crossing her lips. "Mind if I join?"

* * *

><p>"You're making that up," Serana said a few weeks later as they ate a <strong>regular<strong> meal of venison in Castle Volkihar.

"Khajiit wishes," he replied, shaking his head. "It is the kind of thing men dream of, but when it is with women whose craziness seems to exist only in intimate action, it can quickly become a nightmare."

"Well, they _did_ join the Dawnguard," she replied, managing to keep a straight face.

"THEY SHAVED THIS ONE'S LEGS AFTER THEY WERE DONE!" he shouted. "THIS ONE IS A KHAJIIT! DO YOU KNOW JUST HOW MUCH FUR IS ON HIS BODY?!"

"Significantly less now, I'd imagine." To her credit, she managed to finish the sentence before bursting out into hysterical laughter. Tears began falling from her eyes when she heard him mutter that the growing hair itched. "I still don't know why you keep getting yourself into all this trouble. Is the sex really worth it?"

"You do realize it is _sex_ you are asking about?" he responded. "You've never enjoyed it?" At his question, her expression instantly darkened.

"What was your first time like, Sim'baja?"

"Like anyone else's. Nothing worth bragging about. There was a young Khajiit girl at a trading post in Elsweyr just a little older than this one. She sucked, then we fucked."

"The first Daughter of Coldharbour became so after she was raped by Molag Bal. When he was finished with her, a drop of his blood fell on her brow and transformed her. Ever since then, the same ritual has been used to create those of the pureblood line. My first time was being raped by a Daedric Prince, and after that experience I never felt the need to try it again."

"Apologies," he began, "Khajiit did not-"

"I know," she said quickly, her tone brusque. "I don't want to talk about it. It's over and done with. I'm fine with my Vampirism." He nodded, his eyes fixed on his food, waiting for the continuation that he knew would have to come. _It __**must**__ come if she ever wants to move past it._ His patience was rewarded. "Besides, my father… my father has been repaid for that debt. I just…" her shoulders began shaking, and Sim'baja realized there were tears in her eyes. "How could he just… just let that demon _do_ that to his own wife and child?!" By the time she was finished he had maneuvered his way around the table, gently enveloping her in a warm embrace as she cried into his chest. He gently lifted her from her seat, carrying her throughout the cavernous halls until he found her room. He gently deposited her on her bed as her sobs turned into the light breathing of someone asleep, and he left, quietly closing her door before starting the search for a normal bed inside the coffin-filled castle.

* * *

><p>He spent a few weeks longer in Castle Volkihar, conversing with Serana and trying to help her talk through some of her different traumas. While he knew that her family had been disturbed, it came as an enormous shock to learn of some of the atrocities that Harkon had committed to his own child. Between the neglect, the attacks on his daughter's self-esteem, the all-consuming prophecy, and the cutthroat politics of his court, it was amazing that she had managed to mold herself into the woman she was. They spoke of hopes and dreams, their fears and regrets; he told her of how the endless war was still taxing on him, even after Ulfric's death, of his dreams of having a family of his own. She told him of what little she remembered of life before Vampirism, of the few good memories she had of her family, of how she shared a similar dream of a family. There was a call for him to perform a contract for the Dark Brotherhood, and he left, disappearing for almost a full month. When he returned, there was something in his eyes that Serana had never seen before, and he quietly told her that the assassins would be carrying on without him.<p>

* * *

><p>From the time of Ulfric's death, there was a period of approximately two years where the final days of the Civil War continued without him. Because of the duel, Ulfric alone had died, so Galmar had made a bid to take over the Stormcloaks. The revolutionaries had lacked the Empire's discipline, however, and Galmar was unsuccessful; the Stormcloaks broke into a number of smaller factions under various leaders, and the Imperials swept in, slaying those who would not surrender and granting quiet pardons to those who did, doing their best to keep the Thalmor under control. During this time, Sim'baja spent his time alternating between his duties with Skyrim's various guilds and spending time with Serana. They developed something akin to a relationship, though it was more platonic than romantic. There was one awkward occasion when she walked in on him when he was bathing, but they quickly moved past that.<p>

* * *

><p>It was as rumors were beginning to swirl of another war with the Dominion that the night came. It had started uneventful; dressed in a set of robes he had received from the College of Winterhold, he had simply been sitting in a room that they had found for him, on one of only five actual beds in the entire castle, reading a translated Falmer text when Serana showed up, the dying embers casting ruddy shadows across her pale skin. "Is there something Khajiit can assist with?" he asked confusedly, glancing at the layered time candle that told him it was somewhere near midnight.<p>

"I'm having a difficult time trying to find the words to explain my presence here," she said, self-consciously rubbing her arm. "I know we've been getting closer these past two years, and I've been thinking about all of our conversations. I… you've helped me get past so much, especially my ordeal with Molag Bal, and… by the twin moons, I'm terrible at this." He opened his mouth to try and encourage her, but she just waved her hand, pacing slightly as she tried to order her thoughts, he watching with an amused grin. "I don't want my only experience with sex to be rape. I… I want to try it with you."

"Are you sure?" he asked, setting aside his book and leaning forward. "Serana, you know of my history. Khajiit would not do you justice with this."

"I know I wouldn't be just another notch on a belt with you," she said, burying her face to try and hide a non-existent blush. "Your history at least indicates that you are… pleasurable to be with. I just… I don't know anyone else besides my greatest friend that I could trust."

The compliment hit him like a boulder to chest, and for almost a full minute he found it impossible to respond. When he did, it was by slowly approaching her and carefully pulling her hands away from her face. As he gazed up into her eyes, it struck him just how much taller she was, as the top of his head barely came up to her chin. _Curse the shortness of the Khajiit,_ he thought to himself, before he reached up and brought her lips down to meet his. She melted into the kiss, tears already beginning to trickle down her cheeks, and he slowly placed his hands on her waist, gently guiding her backward with him. When he felt his legs brush the bed, he carefully turned, sitting her down next to him. _This has to be soft, _he thought, gently pulling away and leaving a trail of kisses across her jaw to her neck. _That accursed Daedra made it torment, so I must make it soft._ He heard her gasp as he reached the sweet spot, gently nipping at it before he slowly began running his hands up the back of her corset, feeling out the laces.

Thanks to his nimble fingers, they were undone in a fair time, and her cape came off quickly after, leaving her in the maroon tunic and black pants. He began tracing his way downward, nipping at the juncture between her collarbones, before ghosting his lips across her chest, just above the swell of her breasts. Serana gasped slightly once more, before she quickly began undoing the belts and ties of his College Robes. It took only a few minutes for her to strip him to the waist, before he began working on the lacings at the neck of her tunic. The fabric began to fall away, revealing more and more of her breasts until he stopped just before they were completely revealed. She looked at him in a confused manner before his hands slipped into the waistline of her trousers, pulling her closer as his lips met hers yet again as he gently pushed her onto her back.

He began working her trousers off her legs, pausing when he managed to get them halfway down her thighs when he saw she had refrained from wearing anything underneath. _Well, she __**was**__ planning this,_ he thought to himself before fully removing them. Serana moaned as he ran his hands softly along her smooth legs, biting her lip as he got closer to the juncture of her thighs. He gently nipped at them, before circling her mound and kissing his way up her abdomen, lifting the hem of her shirt. She looked disappointed for a moment that he had skipped around her folds, before her head was thrown back as his tail slithered in, the soft fur prodding and rubbing away. He slowly kissed his way up higher, pulling the shirt with him until he stopped just below her breasts, pulling back and removing his own trousers and undergarments.

By the time that was done, Serana had done away with her tunic, leaving them both stripped. He took in her full chest with its blood-red nipples, the pale and smooth skin. She almost hungrily devoured the sight of his own body, licking her lips slightly, her fangs peeking out. "Let's try and keep those fangs away from anything important, eh?" he joked, and she smiled for a moment, a before the grin turned wicked as her hand wrapped around him.

"I don't know," she said, pumping slightly, "I might want to keep a little souvenir."

"It is by no means little," he replied, and he pulled back, positioning himself against the entrance. He pushed forward slightly, the tip sinking in, and Serana's expression became nervous. "Hey," he whispered, stopping and gently placing a hand on her cheek. "Say the word and Khajiit will stop." She shook her head, wrapping her trembling legs around his waist, before she bit her lip and nodded. "You are sure?" he asked. Again, she nodded, gently pulling him forward with her legs until he moved on his own, slowly sinking all the way in. Serana cried out for a moment, unaccustomed to any kind of sexual activity after the ritual, and he waited as she slowly adjusted, shifting slightly until she was comfortable, before laying back completely.

Sim'baja gently leaned over, pressing his body close to hers as he gently kissed her lips, wiping the tears away. "Are you alright?" he asked softly. She nodded, kissing him back, and he began to move, slowly at first, before she began murmuring for him to move faster. The entire time he was as close as he could be to her, letting her feel the warmth of his body, the comfort of their proximity. Everything he could think of to ease her mind was done, and soon enough Serana's eyes suddenly widened before they were clenched tightly shut, and he felt her body quiver as she achieved orgasm. A single tear managed to work its way out, running down the side of her face, but her expression was one of contentment, and they shared another soft kiss.

When the sun finally rose, they had both managed to reach satisfaction several times. Serana was curled into his side, gently running a hand over his chest, while his breathing slowed, his eyelids drooping closed every few seconds. "Khajiit must sleep," he murmured, and Serana chuckled quietly, her voice slightly hoarse from screaming.

"I'd imagine so, after all that activity."

"So… where do we stand now?" Sim'baja asked, trying to keep himself awake for a few more precious minutes.

"I'm… not sure," Serana admitted, her expression becoming uncertain. "We're certainly very close, and I'm happy about that. However, I don't think I'm ready for a family at this point. In terms of my immortality and resultant lifespan, everything with my old family is still too fresh for me to be ready for that."

"Well, Khajiit would be willing to wait."

"That's not fair to you," she responded almost instantly. "Sim'baja, your life will always be one of danger, and there's no guarantee you'll make it long enough for me to be ready. Even then, it could be decades, and you might not be able to raise a family. Your life is so much more valuable because of the short time you have. Please, promise me you'll look for happiness instead of waiting on mine."

Sim'baja turned to look at Serana, his eyes burning as he tried to keep them open. He thought of what she said, of his own mortality and her immortality, and knew that, while they were certainly close, and would always be almost frighteningly close, they might not ever be the kind of close that would be needed for a family. So, he let out a sigh, and murmured one last thing before sleep took him.

"As you wish."


End file.
